An Endless Kingdom
by OtakuHaku
Summary: The newly created Nobodies of Organization XIII find they have a group watching them...a group of possible mentors.


When one gazes into a clear night sky, what is regularly ignored becomes detailed. A brush of clouds, or not, across a moon, or not. The rose glow of a large city. The consuming darkness of a land devoid of civilization. A myriad of stars that sparkle and wink, some bright, some faint.

There are infinite worlds in existence, and all are different from each other but simultaneously the same. Some do not have a night sky at all, but those that do have different stories for the stars; immense fusion reactions taking place unthinkable distances away through a vacuum of space. Holes pricked in the dark blanket that settles over the sky at sunset, giving hope that daylight will come again. The souls of beloved deceased who dance and play in the cloudy afterlife, watching those still walking below.

Only a few know the truth, that each star is one of those other worlds. Each twinkling orb goes about its life, oblivious to the others. Playing cards paint roses without a clue that one such flower holds the fate of a cursed prince. Sea Witches and Grand Viziers scheme and plot, never dreaming they may one day aid each other. Those that do know gaze up at the night sky and find contentment in seeing that the universe is safe.

What even those most enlightened worlds have forgotten is that there are other things that do not exist on any one particular sphere. There are beings that move between worlds, through them, not bothering to even tie themselves to a single dimension. These beings know the real truth; that in some places the night sky _is_ a blanket thrown over a world by a god that is sometimes petty but often caring. They know some stars _are_ immense fusion reactions churning in a radiant void, and that an ethereal afterlife does exists for those that believe hard enough to get there.

Among those other beings are seven that even gods bow before in fear and respect. These entities encompass the very basest powers of existence; there is nothing that is that doesn't pass under their watch. Sentient creatures that first learn of them ask if they fall sway to what they embody. Can Destruction be destroyed? Will Death die? While they may occasionally enter under the control of their siblings, the founding element of each of the Endless is so basic that it is simply what they are; without it they cease to be.

Each of the Endless has a realm, a further physical manifestation of the force they personify. In each realm there is a gallery, and while it varies in appearance for all of them, the concept is the same; a presentation of a sigil for each of the siblings, an artifact that must be held, much like an offering, to speak with the one to whom it belongs. Only through this object can one sibling enter the realm of another. 

Destiny walked through his gallery, but had no need to pay it attention. The meeting had already been called in his garden, each of the Seven seated on the grass around a pond so small and still it might have been a scrying mirror. There had been lengthy discussions, snide words and affronted egos, but that was regular for his family. In the end they had agreed, however reluctantly on some parts, and all had departed for their own realms. Only Destiny was left, walking tangled hallways in his flowing brown robe, the chain around his wrist clinking softly with each step as blind eyes gazed at the tome in his hands.

In time he made his way out of the corridors of his residence and entered his garden again. Ghosts of the past and of the future played on the pathways but he paid them as little mind as his gallery. The comfortable silence of his realm was only broken by the soft shuffle of bare feet and thick cloth on the sandy walk before him. He followed the trail into the hedge maze at the middle of this place and his demeanor became more serious, concentrated, although the change was almost imperceptible. It began to rain, and calmly he closed his book and held it to his chest as he listened to the sound of the drops on the stiff leaves around him.

As more time passed night fell, but the rain continued. The path beneath his feet, that had become cobble shortly after the drizzle started, turned to stone now. The way had widened, the hedge pulling away from the path and growing, towering over it. Thunder rumbled distantly and lighting flashed across the sky. Lights appeared in the shadowed walls surrounding him, first small pairs like glowing eyes then more, smears of brightness that became colors that became illuminated windows and flickering neon signs, all reflected in the cold puddles through which he tread.

Still he strode through twisting alleyways without even blinking; his whole existence was walking, one path or another. His surroundings were inconsequential. This world was more a maze than most, and that met with his approval on a very superficial level. It wasn't his place to influence in any way, for or against those he was headed toward. However, he of all of them knew how it could be the smallest thing that decided fate, and so he let no detail slip past.

After a time a castle loomed before him. Or, it would one day be that structure. For now it was small and shifting, as chaotic and confused as the minds of those that resided in it. His own will was like a sharp beam of light in the world of darkness, and shadowed, shapeless hallways solidified to looming white marble structures around him with an almost tangible feeling of relief. The architecture stayed even once he had passed, the most substantial proof of his being that had ever existed.

Finally his steps, that had traveled many worlds and an indeterminable time on this single mission, ceased. The white stone unfolded like a fan around him and the six men before him. The shifting space the other men had been occupying transformed into a spacious, brightly lit room with six square seats arranged in a ring around them. The men gaped between him and their surroundings, traumatized minds in shock as they tried to process this newest development in their less than day old existence.

Frantic, whispered words were exchanged before one, a tall, dark-skinned man with long silver hair and ember eyes, approached Destiny. "Who are you?" he questioned simply but with a comfortable air of authority. It was clear he remembered his position from their previous life and automatically stepped into that role.

"I am Destiny of the Endless. But for now that is unimportant, as I am here only as a messenger." He opened his book to a page dominated by a single symbol, an upside-down heart whose point had been pulled up into three jagged barbs. Glowing orange gothic letters swirled into the air in front of him, arranging themselves into names. "You are the apprentices of Ansem the Wise, who took the fate of the worlds into your own hands and released a great Darkness which consumed you." An 'x' appeared in the middle of each name, and they shuffled again before inscribing themselves on the page.

"What is this…?" the man who had known himself as Xehanort murmured, a confused and almost fearful look in his eyes that was mirrored, in different degrees, by the others. At the moment the names had been recorded the men came to know them, new identities for their new life. It was disconcerting, to have one moment been secure in yourself as one individual, with one name, and then immediately after that to truly see yourself as being, and always having been, a completely different entity. Memories of their past life faded at the edges, becoming surreal. This world was what was true now. These bodies were so similar to the old, yet different in such fundamental ways; but the new shells were the ones that were real. The old, with heart-pumped blood in veins that now only carried a seething Darkness, were relegated to mere dreams.

An uncomfortable shifting moved through the small group as they dealt with this new knowledge. One of the shortest flexed his fingers and rolled his shoulders, as if he required physical movement to be able to think. A lanky blond nearly vibrated with agitation, muttering to himself, one eye narrowed in concentration. And to the side of all of them, a huge man build like a gladiator wrapped a protective hand around the narrow shoulders of a boy in his late teens who clung to his hip. Fear emanated from the two of them, the terror of losing what they had, and dread of what might be to come.

"Your existence," Destiny continued calmly, brushing aside their distress, "will affect innumerable lives. My siblings and I feel there are things you should be told, concepts you should grasp, before you begin your work." In actuality, this had been the biggest point of contention between the Seven. Destiny had argued that they should be told nothing, left to find their own way as all others were. He had presented this point because he felt it was his duty to fight for the hand of Fate, even as he knew the eventual resolution of not only the debate amongst his family, but of everything that was to come as well. It was the paradox of his existence: to act his part simply as the lines of a play, despite his awareness of the futility of argument.

"Our WORK is OVER!" the tall blond nearly screeched, his demeanor finally reaching a breaking point. He was a desperate man maneuvered into lackeying for a crime he didn't want to commit, now informed there is still more he must accomplish. His bright green eyes and expansive motions were frantic, and he stepped forward toward Destiny on impulse. It was only the strong hand of another man, just as tall but with long dreadlocks that fell down his back, capturing his shoulder that stopped him.

"We're dead," the darker man with vivid violet eyes stated, his comment bearing the convincing finality that his colleague had only hoped for. His gaze drifted to the smallest of them, pinning the boy as he huddled against the frame of the man Destiny found eerily similar to his own brother. Both predator and prey, and alert guard dog as well, were silent for a moment before the man looked back to their visitor and continued. "We chose to go astray of our teacher, and that was the price we paid. I think the only thing we need to be told is why we're all standing here now."

Destiny smiled slightly, his eyes hidden by the long folds of his cowl. "A very logical question, from the most logical apprentice. I fear the answer will not please you nor your companions. Simply put, it is your destiny. That is the only aspect that concerns me. Perhaps in talking with my siblings you will find a solution that is more comfortably suited to your scientific sensibilities."

"Jabber jabber jabber," another of the Nobodies snarked, puppeting talking mouths with his hands and rolling his only usable eye, the other covered by a simple black eye-patch. "All of you talk too much, and you always have. And it got us killed." He too glared at the boy, sneering at him when he shrank back, although the action caused indignation to rush across the pretty face. "I think," he tapped his temple with one thin finger, "that maybe we need to take a step back from all the scientific bullshit for a minute. Bein' cocky got us into this mess, mebbe listenin' to someone for a change'll get us out." He graced Destiny with an expansive but bored wave of his hand while his colleagues looked at him incredulously. The fact that he didn't even notice gave the impression it happened often.

With effort Destiny erased his small smile. This group intrigued him more than anything had in recent memory, and his span of recollection was intimidating. He looked forward to watching their existences unfold, and it was to that end that he continued speaking. "You will each be contacted at the appropriate time, and given a symbol. That sigil will grant you entrance to the realm of one of my siblings, the one who has chosen to be your teacher, as it were. With appropriately focused concentration, you now have the ability to open doors into Darkness and travel through that portal to a place of your choosing. Focus your intent on the sigil and the pathway will do the rest."

Abruptly he closed his book and turned, retracing his steps through the semi-formed hallways. "You may find that force of will allows you to accomplish quite a few things in your new life," he stated as he strode away. And while he didn't raise his voice, the words were powerful in the shifting air around the group as he faded from sight.

That evening, or what they deemed evening in a world that seemed it would never see more than rumbling thunderstorms in a clear night sky, was spent in discussion. Out of unconscious habit they took to the chairs, strained psyches grateful for some hint of familiarity. That same need led to the almost immediate adoption of a chain of command, the same they had had in their last life. The fact that their current personalities were nearly polar opposites of who they had been meant acting by rote was the only way they managed to accomplish anything.

The allotment of power wasn't completely painless. Zexion argued his place at the bottom, no longer a child but a creature beyond age, and his mind leapt at the freedom. As he debated with the others Lexaeus watched, noting the changes in all of them, never guessing how deep the differences ran. That was knowledge that would only fully show over time.

Zexion, of course, was the one to which he paid the most attention. The body was the same…the face, the eyes, at least the one that was now visible. Hair that had been a deep cobalt bob was now pale slate and brushed over one eye. Attractive, but he couldn't help feeling a vague sense of loss. His personality was a more drastic change; Ienzo had been shy, a small prodigy robbed of his childhood, scared of his elders. He had been sweet, though, quick to smile when encouraged, infinitely caring. That friendliness was gone, now. Lexaeus could feel the hardened determination, the triumph of the ego that Ienzo had so successfully suppressed.

Pondering those differences led him to examine his own personality as well. Aeleus (it was impossible to think of that person as himself anymore) had been a friendly giant. He was quick to jump to the rescue of anyone and anything, wading into the middle of situations that sometimes would have been better without his interference. And he rambled, speaking almost constantly and absently to those around him, inanimate objects he was working with, or at worst himself. Lexaeus felt no need to speak, though, and definitely no desire to step between Zexion and the others as they argued. Sitting back and watching, gathering information, was where he felt most comfortable now.

That personality type had previously belonged to Xehanort, but their leader no longer exhibited it. Instead he spoke at length as well, often over those trying to speak to him. His words and tone carried a condescending self-assurance that was so profound it left a sense of subtle discomfort in its wake. A similar self-centeredness was evident in Xigbar and Xaldin, the former openly mocking and the latter coolly dismissive, as they joined forces against the omega of the pack.

After several minutes of contemplating this new bitterness…no, he should call it what it was, heartlessness…in his companions, his attention was drawn to Vexen. It was a sense of something missing, really, that tickled his mind. If this situation had occurred in Radiant Garden there would have been another piece, and when his eyes wandered to the tense blond man he realized what it was. Even had been their peacemaker, really, though none of them would have acknowledged it. He was the confident and compassionate teacher they went to for advice and reassurance. The one whose sage words ended their squabbles when Aeleus' good-natured meddling couldn't. But this man was nothing like that; he sat hunched forward in his chair, face drawn, a picture of insecurity. For him more than any of the others Lexaeus thought he felt sorrow. How far his friend had fallen as punishment for his transgressions.

A loud, exasperated sigh from Zexion brought his attention to the group again, and he calmly watched as his former love sulked back to the seat beside him. It was obvious he had lost his battle to rise in the ranks, and was not taking it well. Past him, Vexen watched them both with harried eyes, then turned his gaze, still eerily blank with shock, to the seat directly across from Zexion as Xemnas raised his voice.

"It seems we have been given a second chance at life, however handicapped we may now be. We will rest, and in the morning we will resume our research, although now with a different purpose. Something has distorted us, and our work now will focus on the pursuit of that knowledge. With or without the input of that mysterious man and his supposed family, we must find who and what we are, and how we are to continue." With a nod he rose and departed, the others following shortly, making their way into formlessness around them and wresting from it the first rooms of their future stronghold.


End file.
